


Late Bloomer

by TwoHeartsAreBetterThan1



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: 1x04, A Twist Of Fate, Alpha Jason, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Beta/Beta, Biology, Bonding, Jagoras, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Verse, Python - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoHeartsAreBetterThan1/pseuds/TwoHeartsAreBetterThan1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pythagoras have you been...?" Jason's sentence trailed off. He tried once more, "are you...dammit." The last word Jason muttered under his breath as he briefly massaged the bridge of his nose, not quite sure how to broach the subject. This was about to get very awkward, very fast. Best to just come right out and say it. </p>
<p>"Are you scent marking him?"</p>
<p>The question startled Pythagoras enough for him to stop what he was doing and look up sharply at Jason before glancing down briefly at the infant in his lap. "W-what? No, that wasn't what- I was just- No. Beta's can't scent mark." </p>
<p>"No Pythagoras, no they can't." </p>
<p>Pythagoras could not understand why Jason was reaffirming the fact with such an apologetic tone and sorry look on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“How could anyone abandon him, he’s perfect,” Jason remarked as the trio stood around the makeshift crib they had crafted from a woven basket and a pelt of fur that Hercules had won in a gamble just a week prior. 

“Hmm,” Hercules hummed in agreement, “apart from the funny foot.” They leaned in closer to peer at the offending appendage half hidden amongst the fluffy white fur bedding. 

“It’s just swollen, that’s all.” Pythagoras’ fingers searched out the baby’s foot, gently prodding at the sole. The sharp cry of the foot’s owner made him pull back his hand with a flinch. 

“Oh now look what you’ve done,” Jason chastised, though Pythagoras wasn’t sure if he was referring to Hercules foot-based insult or Pythagoras’ prodding that had set the baby off. Hercules seemed to think it was directed at him. 

“It had nothing to do with me, the lad’s hungry, and I know exactly how he feels,” he mentioned empathetically. Hercules and Jason both tried cooing gently at the increasingly red faced baby who continued to screech angrily. When it appeared to be making no difference Jason plucked the baby up and tried rocking back and forth, leaning the baby over his shoulder, and lightly bouncing up and down on his toes, all the while flinching at the high pitched screams that were damaging his eardrums. Hercules, ever the helpful friend, stood by watching the affair with fingers plugged into his ears to block out the noise. Pythagoras was folding extra cloth littering the table, impressively ignoring the ear-splitting sound.

“This is no use, he’ll never quiet down until he has something to eat. One of us will need to go down to the market and buy some food to tide him over.” When neither of his two companions jumped at the suggestion of battling the busy market streets of Atlantis Jason rolled his eyes and let out a sigh that was lost to the louder cries coming from the room’s fourth occupant. “All right, _I’ll_ have to head down to the market to buy him some food.” He stepped closer to the table in the middle of the room and held out the upset baby in Pythagoras’ direction. 

Pythagoras looked affronted. “What, _me_?” 

“Yes you, seeing as I’m the one that has to go the market and Hercules was the one to carry him all the way here. So yes, it’s your turn.” He emphasized this by inching the outstretched child an inch closer in the air. With the child’s angry flying limbs and precariously held position Pythagoras was worried he’d soon fight his way out of Jason’s grasp and plop onto the table. 

“No, no I told you I know nothing of children, I-” 

“Pythagoras it’s not difficult, we don’t have to be Omegas to be able to care for a child. I’m sure even a Beta like yourself can figure it out, here,” He handed the baby the rest of the way over the table so Pythagoras was forced to take him in hand. 

“I don’t even know how to hold him.” He stood awkwardly with the child held inches away from his chest. 

“You just cradle him, hold him so that he can lean on your shoulder or close to your neck. Whatever feels natural.” 

Pythagoras finally brought the bundle against his shoulder and was rewarded a moment later when the cries dialed down to quiet whimpers. After a few seconds of wriggling to get comfortable, the babe had tucked his head under Pythagoras’ smooth chin and tried to press his flat nose as close as possible into the crevice of Pythagoras’ collarbone. Pythagoras grimaced at the feel of cold wet snot sliding across his skin, which had collected in the child’s nose in lieu of his fit, but was simply glad he wasn’t going to be forced to endure a fussy child for however long it would take Jason to go to the market. Two relieved sighs brought his attention back up to see Hercules extracting his fingers from his ears and Jason stepping around the table to stand in front of Pythagoras. 

“See Pythagoras, he likes you after all,” Jason said with that quirky smile his face so often adorned. The infant turned his head to the side, letting out a high nasal grunt as wandering eyes looked at the speaker. Pythagoras cradled the warm parcel in his arms, one hand absentmindedly rubbing the smooth back, and a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Aren’t you glad we didn’t leave him in the forest?” Jason leaned forward to smooth out a wayward lock of downy hair. “Now just don’t drop him.” He pulled back to his full height, which couldn’t have been more than half an inch taller than Pythagoras, but Jason’s muscular Alpha build made him appear much larger and more imposing than Pythagoras’ own lean Beta body. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t drop him yourself, the way he was fighting to get out of your arms. Was the mean old Alpha scaring you with his loud voice and stinky pheromones?” He forwarded his last sentence at the bundle in his arms in a parody of a babied version of his usual voice. The infant regarded him for a moment before returning his face back into Pythagoras’ collarbone and taking loud wet breaths. 

He heard Jason snort in amusement, whispering something along the lines of “yeah right,” under his breath while he walked back to the shelves against the wall to grab a few coins from a clay pot they had deemed their bank, and made his way towards the door. 

“Well this Alpha will be back soon with supplies, so I hope you are both grateful,” and with a short wave goodbye Jason was out the door. 

“I never used to think it a blessing the way Alpha’s took initiative, but things sure do get done a lot quicker around here with Jason around,” Hercules remarked, pulling out a stool and sitting down. The older Beta motioned with his hand for Pythagoras to take the other stool closest to the table. 

“Not that it makes much of a difference to you, does it? You never quite helped out around here before Jason showed up. I seem to recall myself being in charge of all the chores.” He shifted the weight in his arms as he steadied himself into a seated position. 

“I don’t exactly have time to sweep the floors, do I? I’m busy out in our glorious city collecting hard earned coins so we may have food upon our table and clothes on our back.” 

“Collecting or gambling?” Pythagoras asked with a raise of his eyebrow. 

“Does it make any difference?” 

“No,” he shook his head exasperated, “No I suppose not.” 

“Then don’t complain,” Hercules said with a smile. 

A tiny fist grabbed hold of the front of his tunic and was weakly pulling the bundled cloth in several different directions as the tiny arm waved through the air aimlessly. Pythagoras clutched the swaddled baby closer to his chest. The idea of holding the fragile human being had intimidated him initially when Jason had first tried to pawn the baby off to Pythagoras when they had discovered him on the forest floor. He had never been around young children before, besides the occasional view of a child hiding between the folds of their mother’s skirts on a busy market day. He was an only child as well, so there were no younger siblings to look after or care for in his youth. He let his head fall forward, nose brushing between spidery thin hair and took in several deep breaths. The distinctive smell of newborn washed over him, accompanied by another warm scent that must have been left from when Jason had been holding the baby. Despite the underdeveloped olfactory system of Betas, he could still make out the barest of scents and pheromones given off unconsciously by Alphas that easily allowed them to rule in higher classes and demanded submission from Omegas and obedience from the Betas. 

Pythagoras took another slow intake of breath, savoring the scent Jason had left behind that smelled a mix of the ocean and warm sand. Something warm spread in the pit of his stomach and he tried not the dwell on the implications that came with the way his heart fluttered at the comforting scent.


	2. Chapter 2

“I think he’s finally fallen asleep. Fine time too, I think my arms are beginning to cramp.” Pythagoras had sat stock-still when he’d noticed the baby starting the nod off, chubby fingers letting go of his shirt and falling to their sides. Soft puffs of breath now tickled at his bare neck, breaths that were occasionally accompanied by a quiet grunt.

 

“You can probably try to put him back into his cradle,” Hercules suggested in a hushed tone. Pythagoras nodded slowly in response, trying not to move his neck so much that it would jostle the small slumbering form leaning against him. Supporting the baby with one hand he rose from his stool and was soon smoothing fur bedding of the cradle beneath his palm before slowly extracting the child from his chest. “Careful now, careful…” Hercules whispered somewhere from behind him. Cradling the baby’s head in one hand, while his other hand sprayed against his back to support his lower half, Pythagoras gently placed the baby into the fur. When he removed his hands without jostling the baby into consciousness Pythagoras gave a sigh of relief and stepped back to watch the sleeping babe.

 

“Well done there, Pythagoras. You’re not so hopeless after all.”

 

“It would have been a bit easier without you muttering at my back, but thank you. Do you thi-”   **BANG BANG**. Pythagoras was cut off from a loud knocking against their front door. “Hercules, door!” Pythagoras commanded in a soft hurried voice, hoping that Hercules would be able to stop the offending noise before it woke the baby. He was able to reach it after the second bang before wrenching the door open to hiss at Jason to keep it down. Pythagoras sent a quick prayer to the gods that the loud interruption would be unnoticed, but his prayer went unanswered as instead two sleep laden eyes squeezed together before sluggishly blinking open. Pythagoras pasted an overly happy smile on his face and tickled the bare stomach of the now awake baby, hoping that his cheerful display would delay any unpleasant outbursts. Small pink lips curved up into a shy smile at the attention. Crisis averted. He turned his head to the three at the door tiptoeing their way inside, noticing that somewhere along the market Jason had come across Medusa. “He’s awake now, no use in trying to be quiet.” Pythagoras stood to assist Jason with the abundance of items in his arms, helping to place items around the table. “This is wonderful.” Without Medusa, Jason would have most likely have returned with just goat’s milk, however, with the beta female’s help they had been able to collect most of the essentials they would need to care for the baby.

 

“Sorry about the mess, these two boys, you know…” Medusa didn’t seem to hear Hercules, eyes having caught the sight of the cradle in the corner.

 

“Um, I’m the tidy one actually,” Pythagoras said, just to clear the air, for whoever was listening. Jason turned to smile at him.

 

“Is this him?” Medusa was already making her way towards the cradle, “isn’t he sweet.”

 

“Can you believe someone just abandoned him? I couldn’t just leave a baby out on the side of a mountain, now could I?” Hercules had joined Medusa next to the cradle.

 

“You brought him back?” She asked incredulously.

 

“Carried him all the way home.” Pythagoras and Jason shared a look at the obvious embellishment Hercules was adding to the story. It was almost painfully obvious how infatuated he was with Medusa and that he was trying to say and do whatever it took to get on her good side.

 

“I brought some goat’s milk,” she turned to point to the newly purchased clay bottle on the table near Pythagoras, “fill that up.” Pythagoras handled the bottle to Jason who was already reaching for the jug of liquid. Empty handed, he fiddled with his fingers as he watched Medusa pick up the baby into her arms. He wasn’t sure what the uneasy feeling was that ran through him at the sight of Medusa smiling happily to the child she held, surely it wasn’t jealousy? He wasn’t exactly pleased at the moment, silently worrying if she were to drop him, or that she was moving him around too quickly after his nap. There was absolutely no reason for him to be jealous of Medusa, and most certainly not for wishing to hold the baby for a few moments, but a small part of him wished that it was him holding that warm bundle against his chest, just so he would be self-assured that the baby would be completely safe from harm. The pleasant weight of the child in his arms had a very tranquilizing effect on his mood, a mood that had turned restless once he’d set the bundle down. A frown formed on Pythagoras’ face and he tried wiping these thoughts from his mind. This protectiveness was completely unjustified, yet he couldn’t help the underlying sense of _wrong_ at seeing the child in someone else’s arms.

 

“There was nothing on him, no note no jewelry to pay his way?”

 

“Nothing, whoever left him clearly didn’t want him to be found.” Pythagoras’ eyes were focused solely on the child as he responded. Watching as carefully as he was it came as no surprise that Pythagoras was the first one to see the unhappy hiccup before anyone else was able to pick up on it, and knew what the tiny whimper would soon explode into. The quiet distressed noises of the baby gave only a few seconds warning before the little mouth opened as far as it could and proceeded to wail. Pythagoras had instantly taken a step forward at the sound, wanting to assist, console, or relieve in any way possible the horrible sensation that came with watching the scene unfold. He forced himself to halt in his movements forward—running across the room to grab the baby out of Medusa’s grasp would probably not be the best course of action. Everything was under control, Medusa could handle one crying child. Medusa could handle it.

 

“Shh Shh, it’s alright,” Medusa soothed. “Jason do you have the milk ready?”

 

“Oh yes, sorry here.” He rushed to hand her the bottle then stepped back next to Pythagoras as the two observed Medusa try to feed the screaming child. Hercules was hovering alongside Medusa, gently grabbing the balled fists that were trying to knock the bottle aside, repeating nonsensible phrases to try to perk up the baby. Anytime the opening of the bottle got anywhere near to making contact with the loud open mouth, the few drops of ingested milk would be sputtered right back out to spray against the front of his bare stomach and Medusa’s shirt followed by even more unpleasant screams. Pythagoras noticed he had began to fidget as he watched, rocking slightly back and forth on his feet like his body demanded he drift towards the scene, but his mind would snap him back everytime.

 

“If only we had a rocking chair.” Pythagoras heard Jason muse beside him.

 

“A...what?” He’d never heard of such a contraption. Jason looked surprised, as though he hadn’t meant to receive a reply or didn’t think he’d have to give an answer. He paused for a moment before responding.

 

“It’s a sort of chair that’s mounted on two slanted legs so that when you lean back it will rock back and forth. They’re quite popular back in- back where I’m from. Omegas and Beta females like to use them with newborns. The rocking is supposed to help soothe the baby.”

 

“Huh.” A rocking chair would be helpful right about now. He didn’t miss the way Jason’s gaze turned to regard him. He tried to stop his fidgeting.

 

“Are you alright?” He hadn’t stopped fast enough it would seem .

 

“Of course. It’s not a very pleasant sound, is it?” Trying to play off his unease as displeasure at the noise. Medusa and Hercules had given up feeding and were ineffectively trying to amuse the child with little objects around the room that would hopefully divert his attention away from crying.

 

“Not at all,” Jason said sympathetically, having bought Pythagoras’ excuse.

 

Pythagoras’ face flattened to an impressive mask of indifference that was only betrayed by an occasional twitch of the hand that wanted to reach out. Every fiber of his body felt tense with a potent mixture of agitation and apprehension. If no one were watching he would practically be pulling his hair out by this moment, fingers gripped tight around sandy blond curls. It could not have been more than a few minutes that the baby had began to cry, but Pythagoras didn’t think he could take much more of this. Medusa wasn’t holding him _right_. If she would just nudge the trapped leg aside from her chest, rub his back slowly, or run her fingers softly against the back of his head then surely he wouldn’t be so upset. Gods! Why did he feel so on edge? He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

 

“May I?” He practically burst out, promptly striding forward with arms stretched out eagerly. Everyone looked slightly taken back at his newfound enthusiasm, though—thankfully for Pythagoras’ sanity—Medusa was no less appreciative for his offer.

 

“You may try.” She smiled as she passed over the baby. Pythagoras instantly felt the tension ease out of his body at the newfound proximity to the tiny form. He reached a thumb over a clump of smooth hair as the child calmly situated himself into a comfortable position in Pythagoras’ arms, small hands wrapping around the worn fabric and curling himself into his favorite position below the jawline of his keeper. Like before, the loud cries has instantly tapered off to silence after being transferred to Pythagoras’ arms. It was like a blanket of calmness had washed over the both of them. In the aftermath, Pythagoras was trying to figure out why he’d reacted so uncomposed at the disturbance. He knew that he’d simply been worried about the child and had wanted to be the one to personally pacify the disturbance, yet it felt like his reactions had been motivated by more than just that. For some reason his emotions were running beyond his control, and the thought unnerved him.

 

“It looks like the little guy has a favorite.” Medusa was too nice a person to be bothered by the trivial preferred affections of a child. It made Pythagoras feel less guilty for taking the child from her and even more glad that he would not be forced to give him up.

 

“Indeed, he’s taken a real liking to Pythagoras. Same thing happened this morning, the lad was fit to burst and soon as he’s handed to Pythagoras, calms right down,” said Hercules.

 

“Let us be thankful at least one of us is able to have that effect.” She picked up the discarded bottle on the other side of the room, “would you like to try feeding him, Pythagoras? I bet he will be more amenable to the idea in this state. He must be starving by now.” Pythagoras took the bottle with a nod of thanks.

 

“That’s why I sent Jason out, I knew the little fellow would need something to eat.” Hercules really needed to tone down the platitudes.

 

“You’re such a kind hearted man, Hercules,” Pythagoras said with as straight a face as possible, holding in the laugh that wanted to escape from the false sentiment. He was able to adjust the child so his face was no longer plastered into Pythagoras’ neck so he could bring the bottle to the baby’s face. Once the bottle was noticed it was immediately greeted by two bright pink lips latching around the nozzle and happily started sucking on the liquid contents inside.  

 

“Maybe we should go back to where we found him,” Jason suggested, arms leaning against the table in a way that wonderfully flaunted his biceps. Pythagoras was pulled away from his starring at the impatient squeak below that urged him to hold the bottle at a higher angle. The baby hummed pleasantly when more milk filled his mouth, leaning back comfortably against the crook of Pythagoras’ arm.

 

“Excellent idea, why don’t you go see what you can dig up.” Hercules had been so generous to pull the door open for Jason, in a not so subtle message of 'get out'.

 

“By myself?” Without even looking up Pythagoras could imagine Jason’s face as he spoke, probably with one eyebrow drawn to the ceiling and staring unamused at Hercules.

 

“You should go with, Hercules,” Pythagoras spoke up from the other side of the room, “two sets of eyes will definitely have more luck at spotting any clues as to where this child came from, rather than just one.” It was too perfect a chance to pass up to mess with Hercules, and it would be amusing to see his attempts to talk his way out of leaving and being denied an afternoon in Medusa’s company, even if Pythagoras would also be a part of that afternoon- in a silent third wheel sort of way.

 

“Jason is young, he’s got eyes of an eagle. You don’t need my help to look along a forest floor, do you Jason? I’ve got tiny eyes anyways, couldn’t pick out a needle from a haystack.”

 

“What if I come across bandits?”

 

“Weren’t you the one to tell us to never go out into the woods by ourselves?” Pythagoras added. Hercules wasn’t going to win this one and he knew it.

 

Changing tactics, Hercules exclaimed, “That’s right Pythagoras! I don’t know how I could have forgotten. We can’t just send Jason out to the forest alone,” he grabbed his sword leaning against the wall and puffed his chest out in bravado, “if we are to come across any bandits I will certainly protect the both of us. With hope, we’ll soon find out where the child is from and return him to his rightful home—if possible.” He dipped his head, “Thank you for all your help, Medusa.”

 

“No problem at all,” She said cheerfully. Hercules stepped over to Pythagoras, fingers scratching lightly on the still suckling child’s head.

 

“Bye lad.” And then in a grumbling whisper, for Pythagoras’ ears only, “thanks a lot.”

 

“I’m good with babies, and you’re not. It’s just the way things are.” Pythagoras answered in finality. He gave Hercules a broad smile, “better get a move on.”

 

With an air of defeat, Hercules strode back to the open door. “We’ll be back in a couple hours. Come along, Jason.” Jason followed dutifully, shutting the door behind them.  

 

The bottle felt significantly lighter in his hand and the child had found a greater interest in the thin leather bracelet that Pythagoras always wore on his right wrist.

 

“He’s drunk the whole bottle. Should we feed him another or do you think he will be fine for now?”

 

“We may try another half bottle, see if he is still keen on the idea.” Medusa grabbed the bottle from Pythagoras and soon returned it, slightly heavier with the addition of the milk. Apparently the child was just as keen, finishing the bottle with as much speed as he had done the first. The empty bottle was set aside back onto the table.

 

“Would you like to try burping him?” Medusa offered.

 

“Burping him? Won’t he just do that on his own?” Stubby fingers were trying to move Pythagoras’ wrist closure for inspection, which he allowed until it was evident that the baby meant for his bracelet to become a chewtoy. He let the ends of his fingers be gently gnawed on instead.

 

“Not at this young of an age. It helps to get rid of any air the baby may have swallowed during feeding. It is supposed to make them less likely to be cranky or gassy.”

 

Perhaps Jason and him should have been burping Hercules all along if that was the case. Though his burping went hand in hand with the gassiness so it wouldn’t make sense that burping would help alleviate the later.

 

“It’s quite easy,” Medusa was speaking again, “you just have to gently pat his back—not too hard—until he burps.” He moved the child so they were chest to chest again, with his head over Pythagoras’ shoulder and proceeded to do as Medusa had said. “We may sit if you like? It’s not necessary to stand.”

 

“Yes let’s.” They both grabbed a nearby stool, as Pythagoras continued to pat the child’s back. The ensuing silence felt slightly suffocating. This was the first time he’d been alone in a room with Medusa, not that there was any reason for him to avoid doing so as she was a perfectly nice person, he just wasn’t very talkative and having Jason and Hercules around to buffer the conversation helped immensely to make up for any social awkwardness that he exuded. Should he be making small talk? Medusa didn’t seem overly bothered by the silence, though it couldn’t hurt to make an effort. “How has work at the palace been?” There, that wasn’t too hard.

 

“Oh quite wonderful, thank you. It felt daunting at first, but it did not take long to get adjusted. I’ve mostly been working in the kitchens so far, and one of the other serving girls, Korinna, has been kind enough to show me all the ins and outs of the job. What about yourself? I don’t think any of you have mentioned where you work.”

 

Pythagoras chuckled, “that’s because we don’t. Most of what we live off of is whatever Hercules is able to scrape together from his gambling, or whatever side job he’s able to rope Jason into helping him with. Surprisingly enough, there’s good money to be made from beetle races.”

 

Medusa looked like she wanted to laugh as well. “Is that so? You will have to invite me to the next big race then if that is the case.”

 

“We’d be happy for you to join us, the more the merrier.” An abrupt burp was released over his shoulder, “Ah there we go.” His patting slowed to rub circles against the small back. The child lowered his face to rest against the part of his shoulder that his tunic didn’t cover and he could feel soft lips rubbing against his bare skin.

 

“You are a natural, Pythagoras. Have you cared for children before?”

 

“Not once. I told Jason that I knew nothing of children, and that remains to be true. I truly don’t know how mothers do it, we’ve only had him for an afternoon and I already feel exhausted.” Exhausted, yes, and also strangely content.  

 

“I’ve been told that it’s different when it is your own child. And I think you would be wonderful with children, you’ve already shown you have a knack for it. Perhaps you’ll take a wife in a few years time and have a couple young one’s running around the city before we know it.”

 

“I will stick to my triangles for now.” The day he would take a wife would be the day Hercules got a real job; never.

 

“There is no one special you have your eye on?” She nudged his side playfully. No one he would ever admit. Definitely not someone whose encompassing scent had began to invade every corner of their home, who had tan sun-kissed skin that contrasted sharply against Pythagoras’ pale white complexion and whose face brightened with effortless smiles when they spoke together. Someone who was an Alpha, and would never have any interest in a lanky, triangle-crazy Beta.

 

Medusa was still watching him with an expectant gaze and he realized he had been taking too long to reply, lost in his thoughts. He was thankfully saved from giving a hopefully believable response when he felt an unexpected pain in his shoulder where the baby had been nuzzling.

 

“Ow!” He pulled the bundle away from his chest, balancing the child on his lap with one hand while his other hand searched out the section of sore skin on his shoulder.

 

“What is it? Are you alright?” Medusa asked.

 

“I think the little bugger bit me,” Pythagoras said astonished. The bite hadn’t hurt too terribly, he was more surprised than anything really. The infant had an especially strong jaw and the one tooth that was already poking out of his gums had pinched sharply into his bare skin. The slippery fluid that his fingers came in contact with was clear when he pulled his hand away, so the tooth had not broken his saliva covered skin. The tiny traitor looked up at him from his lap, beaming from ear to ear at what he had done.

 

“Huh,” she look as surprised as he felt, ”he must been born from an Alpha/Omega pairing, those children are usually more prone to instincts such as biting and marking. He probably thinks you are his mother.”

 

“If we are able to reunite him with his mother I’ll feel sorry for her when he starts to grow more teeth.” Medusa laughed at that, standing from her seat and walking over to her shawl she had discarded minutes earlier.

 

“I think we will all sympathize.” At the table she was efficiently filling another bottle with milk. “I must go if I am to be on time for work. You can put him down for a nap and when he wakes you may give him another bottle. Say goodbye to Hercules and Jason for me.”

 

“I will. Thanks again for the help.”

 

“Fetch me if you need any more. Bye, Pythagoras!” And then it was just Pythagoras and the baby.

 

“Naptime.” He declared to the infant that continued to babble from his lap. There were no complaints until he had settled the form into the bedding of the cradle. The moment his hands left the basket the baby had stretched his arms up fervently in an obvious request to be held again. “Sorry, no. It’s rest time now.” He was met with a soft nasal grunt and when he looked down the child was still waiting expectantly. “I’ll hold you after you sleep. Aren’t you tired?” This earned him a higher and more insistent grunt that pulled at his heart. He could not believe how guilty he felt for ignoring the unspoken request. “You are incorrigible, you do know that?” Pythagoras gave in to the child’s demands and lifted him back out the cradle. “We will go rest in my bed then, how does that sound? So long as there is no more biting.”

  
Pythagoras laid back onto the mattress and stretched out on his bed, letting the child perch atop his flat chest. He spent the next few minutes petting thin tuffs of hair. Eyes blinked silently at him and then small hands wrapped around Pythagoras’ own hand and pulled it down from where he had been resting it on the child’s head. The infant was carefully examining the larger palm and fingers, enraptured by the size comparison to his own, and he grabbed onto Pythagoras’ index finger as he waved the hand about. Pythagoras smiled and tapped the child on his nose with his middle finger, causing the child to pull away from the offending digit with a look of confusion before going back to his study as if nothing had happened. Small fingers poked gently at the skin of Pythagoras’ palm that was soon released when a large yawn broke the infant’s attention. The tiny head bobbed several times in a fight against consciousness before it dropped against his chest and the babe lay still. Pythagoras’ fingers were rubbing slow sweeps up and down delicate arms before sleep finally overtook him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter up! I want to thank all of you who kudo'd and commented, the Gods are smiling favorably upon you for your kindness. Please continue to do so!  
> We're slowly inching our way through the episode.


	3. Chapter 3

“Pythagoras.” A whispered voice broke through the blanket of unconsciousness that had wrapped its tendrils so tightly around Pythagoras’ mind.

 

“Mmh,” was his eloquent reply to whatever godlike voice was trying to pull him back into the waking world. His body felt leaden with exhaustion and he shifted his head to one side, letting his cheek slide against the thread-bare cloth of his pillow. His eyes remained stubbornly closed, wishing for sleep to overtake him once more while he still hovered at its edge.

 

“We brought food,” the voice trilled in bribery. Pythagoras could care less about food at the moment while he was engulfed in the snug blankets of his bed. The promise of food was something that would have had more luck with Hercules. His response reflected his indifference.

 

“Go-’way,” he mumbled into the side of his pillow, which earned him a chuckle from his bedroom’s uninvited guest. His hand fumbled at the covers around his waist, but when his fingers had looped around the cloth and tried to bring it up over his head the blanket was pulled out of his grasp and dropped back to its original location. He stifled the unhappy whine at his interrupted actions and instead pressed his cheek harder into the pillow, breathing in the sudden heady scent that surrounded him. His brain was too foggy to try to pinpoint its origin and instead let the faintly recognizable smell blanket him as his body melted further into the mattress. He was moments away from drifting off again when he felt a warm weight being peeled off his chest. Pythagoras had completely forgotten the child that had been balancing on his front, and who was now being lifted up. He’d been careless and the child was being taken. Taken away from where Pythagoras could keep him safe. The thought made him startle awake and he would have shot straight up in bed had the sudden hand at his shoulder not caught him halfway before gently pressing him back into the mattress, which Pythagoras was forced to allow in his half awake state.

 

“Hey, easy, Pythagoras. It’s all fine, I’ve got him see?” Pythagoras’ eyes blinked rapidly, bringing the blurry room into focus to find Jason standing over him, carefully holding the child in the hand that wasn’t still hard pressed into Pythagoras’ shoulder. With each blink that cleared his sight he noticed Jason’s forehead wrinkling in confusion as his eyes raked below Pythagoras’ line of vision. “What happened here?” The question made Pythagoras pause, his face reflecting Jason’s confusion, and he was about to ask Jason what he meant, but his response caught in his throat when he felt a thumb rub over the sore patch of bare skin where the baby had bit him earlier. Pythagoras froze under the touch, his noise of surprise muffled by the pillow. The room felt too warm all of a sudden, the heat originating from the firm hold on his shoulder that felt like it was being branded into his skin. If he wasn’t awake earlier, he certainly was now; some parts of his body being considerably more _awake_ than others in response to the touch, making him immensely grateful for the blanket pooled around his lower half.

 

“Oh,” and Pythagoras would be damned to admit that his voice was several octaves higher than normal when he spoke. “It is nothing, a mere accident.” When had his room gotten so hot? He’d be kicking off his blankets by now if a certain part of his body wasn’t so intent on making itself known.

 

“You are not one to be known for clumsiness.” That thumb continued to rub across his shoulder, inspecting the reddened spot of skin. Pythagoras hoped Jason did not notice the tense swallow that made his throat bob, or the blush that was undoubtedly making itself known across his cheeks and rose to the tips of his ears. It felt horribly embarrassing laying so prone on his bed with Jason towering above him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to shake the hand off.

 

“No...the baby bit me earlier when I was holding him. It’s nothing.” Jason, an _Alpha_ , would understand better than anyone the implications that came with the biting, that the child was marking Pythagoras’ as his new surrogate caregiver. He prayed Jason would not read too much into it. “He misses his mother, all the sights and scents have probably confused him.” The hand slowly withdrew from his shoulder at last, the now uncovered skin chilled in contrast to the rest of his heated body at the loss of contact. Pythagoras might as well have been branded by it. Jason let out a lighthearted laugh as his free hand played with the child’s loose limbs peaking out of the swaddled cloth.

 

“Well he certainly wasted no time in marking you as his. Should we call you Mom from now on?” His lip twisted up at his own joke.

 

“Don’t you dare.” He scooted up the bed so he was sitting upright, taking care to make sure the blanket followed his shift. Hercules appeared behind Jason in the doorframe, eyes seeking out each corner of the room in search of something, or rather someone. Despite Hercules standing across the room, his arrival hit Pythagoras in the nose like a punch. The stench of pungent sweat and cheap wine clawed at his nostrils while his stomach gave a nauseous flip at the smell that was drowning out the previously reassuring scent. The odor made him want to gag and he could not understand how Jason could stand to be so close and be so unaffected. The usually comforting tight weight of the belt he wore around his waist felt too tightly pressed against his rolling stomach and he quickly undid the strip of leather, lest he vomit then and there.

 

“Did Medusa leave? Did she say if she’d be back?” Hercules tried to ask casually as Pythagoras deposited his belt beside him on the bed. Breathing through his mouth or nose, he couldn’t figure out which was the lesser of two evils at the moment. He settled on his nose, since he swore he could nearly taste the sweat rolling off Hercules’ body when he opened his mouth, and that was something he wouldn’t wish upon even his worst enemy.

 

“She didn’t stay for long, mentioned something about work.” Pythagoras nonchalantly brought his fist to his lips with fingers slightly covering his nose in a faux thinking pose, as an attempt to mask Hercules scent with his own. It helped, slightly. Next market trip he would definitely be buying more soap and encourage Hercules to use it on a regular basis, this was simply ridiculous. Surely no man in all of Atlantis smelled as bad as Hercules at this moment.

 

“I’m sure she’ll be back,” Jason assured.

 

“You think?”

 

“I sure hope so,” Pythagoras added, “since she knows more about children than the three of us combined. I doubt she would leave us on our own to manage, and if she does you’ll have a reason to go and fetch her.” Medusa had been extremely helpful, and as long as she left the baby handling to Pythagoras, he would have no problem with her coming back. The child’s soft gurgling breaths that filled the air after he spoke made him remember where Jason and Hercules had just returned from. “Did you find anything in the forest?”

 

“Yes actually,” Jason answered, “we found some broken pottery shards and grain where the child was left. Brought back as many shards as we could, if we’re able to reconstruct it we may get some idea of where this little guy came from.”

 

“Wonderful. Go grab the glue, Hercules.” Confident that it was safe to remove the blanket, Pythagoras stood up with a short stretch as Hercules returned to the main room to sort through jars. He opened the small window in his room, reveling in the fresh air that hit his face and rushed past him to clear out his room of the lingering stench. Turning, he noticed Jason was still standing fixed at the front of his room, staring into space. “What is it?” His question brought Jason out of his reverie. He looked slightly addled.

 

“I thought I smel– wait, you have glue?”

 

“Yes?” He answered slowly, unsure if this was some form of joke, “why wouldn’t we?”

 

“What’s it made of?” Jason asked, answering Pythagoras’ question with a question.

 

“It depends on which stall you buy it from, but usually tree sap, animal bones, and sometimes milk.” That was certainly an odd inquiry, though no stranger than Jason’s sometimes complete lack of knowledge of the gods.

 

“Interesting.” His facial features gave a shrug, which Pythagoras countered with an uncertain nod. A triumphant noise from the main room alerted them both of Hercules success of locating the pot of glue and Jason was already turning away with the baby in hand to join Hercules. Pythagoras took a deep inhale of the clean breeze offered to him by the open window before bravely departing from the safety of his room. The broader room was a bit kinder to the nose than his own cramped room had been, and the curtain to the balcony was thankfully pulled back to allow the midday breeze to pass through. It did not completely wash away Hercules body odor, but made it just barely manageable to stand in the same room with him. Hercules had set the pot of glue on the table and was pulling broken shards from his pack and placing them on the tan cloth that had been placed out in the center of the table so none of the pieces would fall between the cracks of wood. Pythagoras stood across the table beside Jason, whose distinctive smell was Pythagoras’ only comfort from the room’s constant assault of scents. There was definitely an open wine skin laying about in the room somewhere, the subtle aroma of the fumes making him lightheaded every time he breathed in.

 

“Go ahead,” Hercules urged to Pythagoras when all of the pieces had been laid out, drawing the stool beside him to sit, crossed arms coming up to slouch on the table top. Pythagoras, who had been hoping to escape the horror that was Hercules’ personal brand of musk, was forced to sit directly opposite of Hercules in order to work on the pottery. The only way to get out of this situation was to work as fast as possible and hope the glue dried just as fast. After this day Pythagoras would be making regular offerings and prayers to Hygieia for Hercules’ sake. He wished that he could trade places with Jason and hold the infant instead of choking on the air he breathed, but sadly it was a well known fact that Pythagoras possessed a knack for puzzles that his two friends did not. Condemned to his fate, he sat down at the table and set to work.

 

Some time had passed before Pythagoras was dabbing the finishing touches along the cracks of the newly formed shape in his hand. There had been a few missing pieces that left holes in the construction, although overall the mold was intact and clearly distinguishable. He would have finished sooner, had his eyes not strayed to the child in Jason’s arms every few seconds. Jason had just managed to settle down the babe in the basket crib after a several minute long struggle when Pythagoras stood with the finished product.

 

“There.” White spots sparked across his vision in defiance to his abrupt standing position. Pythagoras was able to blink them away in a matter of seconds but was given no refractory time before he was bombarded by the headrush. He locked his knees, hip hard pressed into the solid edge of the table and keeping him from swaying. Like the vision spots, the headrush soon passed, but left in it’s wake a dull pounding that had taken root somewhere behind Pythagoras’ eyes. The close proximity to Hercules and the noxious smells of the room having seared themselves into Pythagoras’ nostrils had not helped any either.

 

“You sure that’s right?” Jason abandoned the crib and it’s now quiet occupant to scrutinize Pythagoras’ craftsmanship.

 

“Well of course.”

 

“You got it the wrong way around or upside down?” Hercules asked.

 

“What is wrong with you two, can’t you see what it is?” Honestly, he knew his friends could be hopeless sometimes but this was not the most challenging of mysteries. His question was met with blank stares before Hercules opened his mouth to hazard a guess.  

 

“A rock?”

 

“A...piece of mud?”

 

“Yes, because surely every parent wishes to give their child a piece of mud as a playtoy.” Pythagoras replied snappishly before sighing in resignation and rubbing his forehead in an attempt to chase off the beating drums in his head. The headache was making him irritable. “No, it’s a pig, that’s it’s back legs, that’s it’s front legs, and that is it’s snout.” He pointed out each section of the animal, following the display with a faux piggish snort.

 

“Yes, it is a pig.”

 

“Of course, obviously.” The two spoke over each other, in slow affirmations, as though they had not been questioning Pythagoras’ assessment seconds earlier.

 

“It was a child’s rattle, that’s what the grain was for, to make the noise.”

 

“The mother didn’t leave it with nothing, she did care,” Jason said, and Pythagoras nodded at his correct conclusion. He was thankful for Jason’s closeness, the rich scent coming off of his body was a grateful focus point amidst everything else. His headache was still undeterred by the comfort though and Pythagoras was, for once, glad he’d had no breakfast that morning. It would have never stayed down.   

 

“It’s beautifully made, just look at the detailing on it’s back.” He held out the Pig toward Hercules for inspection.

 

“It still doesn’t get us anywhere,” Hercules argued. Pythagoras sighed, now came the difficult part. He doubted his friends would like what he had to say next.

 

“I’m not sure we should go any further.” He cast his eyes downward to his hands fiddling with the cracked rattle. Pythagoras knew that Hercules would understand the situation they were now in, he simply hoped it would not be a struggle to convince Jason that his promise of connecting the child and it’s mother again was no longer an option. They had hardly known Jason for any time at all, but in that little time, Pythagoras had discovered Jason had a glaring penchant for helping others. Though sometimes, with his ignorance of common practice and lack of propriety, Jason was naively obtuse in knowing when he’d already been beaten. He looked up to the baby wiggling amid the white fur pelt. “The child’s clearly from a wealthy family.” Pythagoras took this chance to walk over to the crib, even a couple feet away from Hercules smelled better than a couple feet closer. “Whatever reason they had to abandon him, one thing is for sure– they don’t want him found.” He smiled sadly at the unaware child, and placed the rattle in the crook of a chubby arm that wasted no time in wrapping itself around any last connection the boy had with his real family. Pythagoras crossed him own arms across his midsection and closed his eyes as he leaned against the pillar beside him. A soft touch of his elbow had him opening his eyes again to see it was Jason who had been the one to reach out. When he saw he had Pythagoras’ attention, his hand dropped. Pythagoras wished it hadn’t.

 

“You alright? You’re looking a bit green around the gills.” Pythagoras stared blankly at Jason. When he glanced at Hercules, questioning if the older man knew how to decipher Jason’s latest expression, he was met with a shrug.

 

“Why would I have gills?” Pythagoras was beginning to seriously doubt the level of communication of Jason’s home city. If this was how everyone spoke there then he wondered how anybody understood each other. Jason smiled at his question, as though Pythagoras was missing the punch line.

 

“No, it means you look ill,” he clarified.

 

“Oh. I have a small headache, it shall pass.” He certainly wasn’t a novice when it came to headaches. Long days of drafting triangles and equations that stretched into the night where he struggled to continue working in the dim light of a single candle were not the best conditions for perfect health.

 

“If it gets worse, let me know. I’ll make you some of that tea you made me last time. We still have some leaves left.”

 

“I will,” He falsely promised. The iris leaves had not been exactly cheap, and with how frequently he had headaches he would rather suffer through them than use their medicines that could be saved and better used for more serious illnesses. But it was better to just placate Jason with false promises than explain that his measly headaches were not worth wasting the remainder of their leaves for.

 

“So if we can’t find the child’s family, what happens to him now?” Jason asked, returning to their earlier dilemma.

 

“We could always sell him,” Hercules offered halfheartedly, his words sparking immediate indignation from Jason.

 

“What do you mean sell him?! Into what, slavery? People actually do that here, sell their own children into slavery?” He was openly unsettled by the notion.

 

“It’s not that uncommon, actually,” Pythagoras supplied. “For a parent abandoning their child, they already do not care for that child’s future, so in their mind–in whatever way they plan to get rid of the child–they may as well make a couple coins out of the arrangement. These children can be sold as slaves, as well as play companions for other children, or even prostitutes.”

 

“No way, no way are we selling this baby into any of that sort of business!” Jason vehemently argued.

 

“There is also adoption. Often only close relatives will take the abandoned infants in order to ensure succession or inheritance, but that’s not always the case. If you ask around enough you will come across infertile Beta/Beta couples looking for a child of their own.” Jason visibly settled at Pythagoras’ suggestion.

 

“It’s decided then, we’ll look for another family to adopt him. Until then, we’ll take care of him. I don’t care how hungry or in-debt we may be, I refuse to sell another human being like property for a few coins.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Hercules held up his hands in surrender, “no argument here.”

 

There was definitely no argument coming from Pythagoras either. He couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed on his face from Jason’s decision. In honesty, Pythagoras would not have felt right selling the child either, and selfishly, he didn’t particularly mind if the child was around for a bit longer. He’d never have been able to anticipate how satisfying it was taking care of someone who was completely dependent on him. It was a longing that had gone unnoticed. Although, not as unnoticed as the foul smell that was now wafting up to meet him. There was no casually disguising his disgust this time with both hands firmly clasped over his nose. “I hate to say this, Hercules,” though he really didn’t, “but you stink.” His nose crinkled.

 

“It’s not _me_ , why do you both always blame me. Why don’t you ask our newest addition, you know, the one who can’t control their bowels for more than two hours. I’m sure my last bath was more recent than his.”

 

“Unlikely, since he is going to be having one today. Right after you change him, that is,” Pythagoras said pleasantly. He held his breath as his hands dove into the crib to lift the babe into the air and then into the hands of a grumbling Hercules. He let himself breathe when he was across the room, picking up one of the larger buckets they owned. “I’ll go get some water from one of the wells for his bath.” Jason caught him before he reached the door.

 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to go instead?”

 

“No it’s fine, I could use the fresh air.” He set down the bucket to fasten his cloak around his shoulders, grabbing it again when he was ready to leave. “Be back soon!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Pythagoras…leave off into the city all on your own. I'm sure it'll be fiiiinnnnneeeeeee. You're going to have a great time, getting all that air. Good times. Good times to come.
> 
> Hygieia: goddess of cleanliness. Also, did you guys know Ancient Greece had glue? Because I sure didn't! Plus you could also buy an orphan as a "pet child", this child could be loved and educated alongside the other siblings, but most of the time they were jesters for entertainment, or used for pedophiliac purposes. 
> 
> The only real reason I haven't updated in so long is because I've been conspiring with Pasiphae to take over Atlantis. Obviously it didn't work, so all of you get a chapter update instead. Please comment and tell me what you think, any parts you liked, or any parts you would love to see more of. I love each and every one of your comments!  
> Thanks for sticking with this story!


End file.
